You Worry Too Much
by Etched In Fire
Summary: 5 BLW - Peppy expresses his concerns when James selects a disreputable mercenary to join their upcoming mercenary team, Star Fox.


" **You Worry Too Much"**

The days that followed the rain were Peppy's favorite. Puddles littered the ground every few yards, splashing against his shoes as he did not bother to dodge them. In their reflection, he saw Lylat blazing overhead, the clear blue skies, the puffy white clouds… and he breathed in the sunny air. "Another day at the office," He announced to himself, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his jacket.

It was a shame that the walk to the hanger was so brief; he could have spent all day feeling the sun on his fur and smelling the wind as it blew across the verdant city. _Corneria City has changed so much since the war._ The War… that had seemed to be just yesterday, but then Peppy remembered that had happened before he had gotten married. And before he had been the best man at his friend's wedding… before the children were born… and they were well into their years of school now. _Life never slows down, that's for sure!_

The husky at the gate did not even bother to look up at him; Peppy made it a point to come to "work" at the same time every day. "Thanks," the hare said cheerily to the gatekeeper, who grunted in response as he stared bullet holes through the daily crossword on the newspaper.

A few buildings down was the docked carrier—a rackety old thing that James had gotten from a scrap dealer in Macbeth. It was a decommissioned Cornerian ship, retired long before the war had even begun, and the dents showed clearly even in dim lighting. The two hangers made storing more vehicles much easier, though the vehicles that the two-man team had purchased over the last few years amounted to a single hovercar (nearly broken thoroughly with a crunched door on the passenger's side) and two old Cornerian Mark II fighters that had been repainted blue and orange as per requested by the Cornerian Defense Force (to erase any confusion, of course!). The carrier itself had been a "temporary purchase", James had told him later on, and was meant to only "suffice for now".

 _It's the start of a dream. Gotta start small to make it big… or so they say!_

Peppy slid his ID card into the slot and when the doors opened, he stepped inside. The shambled parts of a robot had been left in the hall- a battery charging via a wall-plug connected to the ship's battery—or so Peppy assumed. _Maybe one day, he'll finally finish that project._ The hare had stubbed his toe on the lifeless robot parts more than twice. The doors slid open to the break room after a left turn down the initial corridor.

"Morning, Peppy," James did not look up at him from where he sat in the ratty lounge chair, which had been bolted into the ground after their last escapade near Eladard. A mug of coffee sat on a coaster, an ugly off-white color except for the faded "SPACE DYNAMICS" in navy letters, scratched off partially but still legible. "How's the family doing today?"

"Vivian's well," Peppy said, "Lucy's at school already, I walked her to the bus stop." "Fox gets embarrassed when I do that. Says he's 'old enough to take care of himself'," the vulpine chortled and took a sip from his mug. "Maybe he is, I don't really know. He's… what… Nine? Ten?"

Peppy stared at him in mild disbelief. "Our kids are fourteen, James. They were born in the same year."

James gave a careless shrug. "It's all young and reckless to me."

"Well, that's accurate some of the time," Peppy chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down next to James, who had a stack of papers piled onto the table. "What are we looking at?"

"Possible recruits," James answered.

 _That would make things easier._

"Got a lot of interest?" Peppy asked him, eyeing the pile up and down.

"Yeah, I had a few buddies from the Academy advertise," James shrugged. "Pepper's not too happy, but I told him that's what he gets for turning my offer down."

 _Cornelius Pepper. General of Corneria and war hero. I wouldn't have thought it possible all of those years ago._

"Anything promisin'?" Peppy asked and James pointed at a small pile he had separated from the rest. The hare took the first file off of the stack delicately between two fingers. He read aloud, " 'Rusty Barker. Age… twenty-three. Currently works for the Cornerian Police Force'… Doesn't sound too bad." His crimson-brown eyes skimmed to the bottom. " 'Has participated in minor police raids'… and that's it. Think he's suited for this kind of work?"

James scratched at his chin, and the way that his eyes darted to the side gave Peppy an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. _If this is the best we've got, then…_ The hare gave a sigh. "We can keep looking. I don't wanna put some kid into this sort of life if he doesn't have experience."

"It's not like war veterans are grasping for any job they can get now, Pep," James sighed, removing his reading glasses from atop his muzzle. "Most of them got jobs when Corny-boy did. Or they followed him into the military… or they were reimbursed and went into retirement."

 _It's true… the crop of recruits we'll probably get have never seen some of the things we've seen._ Peppy sighed, "Well, is there anyone with more experience than police raids?"

"So far? Not really," James said dully, picking up a file and skimming it over. He gave a wheezing laugh after a few moments. " 'Klein Norton'… 'I want to join the Star Fox team because I think it sounds fun'. Oh man, I almost want to take him."

"Well, Jim," Peppy shrugged. "We do kind of have fun with risking our lives… saving people…"

"Ha! We'll see how much fun he's having when he has to scrape troikas guts off his ship," James retorted. "But he's definitely an option…" The fox put him into the 'consider' pile, though tentatively murmured under his breath, "… Maybe…"

The process went on for a half-hour before James laid his forehead upon the table with a heavy sigh. Peppy gave him a moment—these things seemed to happen more often than not over the past few weeks. Weariness ate at James's eyes, trickling into his voice and making it crack. After the car accident years ago, he had never thought his old wingmate would come back from Papetoon. Vixy's death had killed something in James, something that Peppy knew could never come back. When James had called him wanting to make the "dream team" he had talked about after the Civil War, Peppy knew he couldn't refuse him.

"Pigma Dengar," James had gone back to reading over the files sometime during the hare's daydreaming, and one of Peppy's ears twitched towards his friend. "An experienced cargo-runner from Corneria. Has previous mercenary work on Eladard, Macbeth, and the Katina colonies."

"Pigma?" Peppy asked. "He applied?"

"You know him?" James raised his brows. The photo he slid across the table looked a little too much like a mugshot for Peppy's taste. There was a sort of sharpness in the pig's eyes, a crooked and toothy smile creasing his mouth. He looked unimpressive, if Peppy was honest, but there were other things that concerned the hare more.

"Nah, not personally," Peppy shook his head. "But I've heard people talking about him. Not many of them seemed to think he was any good." _Or up to any good… and I don't think we need to associate ourselves with that sort of folk…_

"Any good at flying? Or any good in general?" James prompted.

"Said there was something off about him. Poked his snout into business that didn't seem to be rightly his, seemed more worried about gettin' paid than anything…" the hare scratched at his chin. "I don't know, Jim, doesn't seem like we should consider him."

"I don't care about what other people say," James McCloud said, and Peppy could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "Star Fox is gonna be a new start for all of us."

 _A new start. That's why he left for Papetoon. And we all know how that went… that outer-rim colony isn't the place to raise a son. And sleazy people like this Pigma guy don't belong on a respectable mercenary squadron._

"Let's keep looking," Peppy suggested lightly, trying to not let his worry show in his voice. "There's still a lot more people who sent in applications."

"I wanna try this guy," the vulpine shrugged, "Better than some of these rookies. I don't wanna hold any hands the whole time we're on jobs."

"I know that," He tried to stay neutral in tone, but he could hear himself failing. _Come on, Jim, do you really want a guy like that around your kid?_ "But we shouldn't hire someone who's gonna hurt our reputation."

James seemed to consider that tidbit for a few moments, before shrugging and putting Pigma's application into the 'consider' pile. "I'd like four pilots if we could," the fox said, "Maybe five. I think that'd be a nice number."

"Well… one thing at a time, I guess," Peppy sighed as he looked at the swine's photo, staring a mocking hole through him. "We'll see how the interview session goes."  
There was a deep part of him that had prayed that James would change his mind. In silence, he chided himself for acting so childish. It was ultimately James's decision—he was the one that had envisioned Star Fox all those years ago, before Vixy, before their children were born, before the car had exploded. The hare could scarcely believe he was staring Pigma in the face a week later, the swine having chosen a simple cream flight jacket and a light pink shirt. He did not twitch and fidget like the others had; instead he seemed fairly calm as James gave him the blueprints of their upcoming Starfighter builds.

"Well, they sure look fast," Pigma grunted unsophisticatedly, but James seemed entertained.

"I designed them myself," the vulpine said proudly, "The Arwing. I have connections with Space Dynamics and they've offered to build them. Each of us will get one."

 _'Us'?_

"Neat," Pigma grinned. "I have a ship o' me own, but she's a raggedy girl, I don't think she'll last a few more years."

The tour around the mothership seemed to go by painstakingly slow. Each grunt and murmur from the pig made Peppy's fur tingle with distaste. He was a brutish figure, massively hulking through the narrow halls of the retired carrier. The hare did not understand his friend's fascination with Pigma, but he tried to keep his patience. More often than not, Peppy distracted himself with minor things—adjusting a picture frame on the wall, moving a coffee mug from the table to the sink, and adjusting the collar of his jacket. James prattled on, moreso than he had with the others, and Peppy silently willed him to be done with the interview.

"Do you think you could handle all of that?" came the inevitable end what seemed to be a millennia later.

"Yeah, looks not so bad to me," Pigma smiled a sort of a smile that made Peppy's blood boil, but he watched his friend buy into it… and subsequently felt his heart sink. _He's set on this guy. No matter what I say or do…_

"Well, I'll give you a call when I've gotten through all the applications. Made a promise to some young kiddos that I'd talk to them, but…" the fox's voice trailed and Peppy could see a light of hope in Pigma's golden eyes. "Well, let's just say I think we'll talk again."

By the time Lylat had begun to set, James stopped Peppy on his way out, an expression of knowing in his blue eyes. "You really don't want that guy on our team. I can tell." A simple shrug and James toyed with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. "Just say it, Pep. I know I did my share of arguing before, but if you don't want him, he's out."

The change struck him oddly, and Peppy tilted his head with intrigue. "Jim, this is your team. You get the final say on who comes and who goes." It was the answer he felt was right to say, but the fox merely laughed in reply.

"But there's no point in taking in people that are gonna cause problems," James said, "Just say the word and he's gone, Pep."

The hare gave it some thought but said, "No. I want to hear your reasoning for showing him around and giving him a chance."

There was a look that crossed the fox's face—Peppy was not sure if it was a look of amusement, sadness, or some odd mix of the two. James clapped his friend's back with a hand wordlessly and he followed his friend out of the mothership, letting the cool, brisk air caress his face. A lighter appeared in the vulpine's hand, and although Peppy wanted to warn him that his wife had hated it when he smoked, the hare relented and watched James take in a deep breath.  
With an exhale, he began, "You ever think about the war?" There was no question as to which war he was referring to.

"All the time," Peppy answered earnestly.

"We threw out the Prime Minister of our home world. The guy who ran nearly every civilized planet in the Lylat System, colonies not included," James stopped to suck in another breath. "We killed a lot of our own boys who didn't even know what they were fighting for."

It was nothing that was news to Peppy, but he nodded dumbly all the same, staring at the way the smoke dissipated into the evening air. James let the information stir in the hare's mind—and as much as Peppy did not want to admit it, he was sinking into the emotions that he had sworn he had settled long ago. The fox blinked with knowing when Peppy finally met his gaze, feeling the weight of dread in his chest.

 _We were all just soldiers, obeying orders, doing what we thought was right at the time._

"I know, Jim," Peppy said, "You don't have to remind me."

"We did bad things to people who probably didn't deserve it. I look back and I remember… And I know not every single one of those soldiers knew what was going on. They didn't know the things we knew," James lamented with a smoky exhale. "And I think about that sort of thing all the time now."

"What does this have to do with Pigma?" Peppy pressed, fighting through the lump in his throat.

"I know the guy did bad things. I saw it in his eyes today. But I know there's good in people," James replied. "That guy has potential. He has good in him. And if I can see it, I can get everyone else to see it. I can help him start a new life."

 _He's always been such an optimist…_ The hare conceded with a sigh, feeling the burn of the cigarette's smoke trickle down his throat. "Sometimes, life does pressure people into doing things they'd rather not do. I can agree on that." _We all can't be judged on our faults alone._ "But are you sure, James? A long time ago, you told me the best piece of advice you could give me was to—"

"Trust your instincts," James finished with a smile. "Yeah, I remember that. I said that right before Fox and I boarded the ferry to Papetoon."

"Do you still believe that?" Peppy asked.  
"Yeah," James nodded. "And my instincts are telling me that this guy has potential."

"Then let's hire him," Peppy let the words fall out of his mouth. _I hope I don't regret this._

"What's the worst that could happen?" James gave a laugh and a shrug. "We still have other applications to go through, but I think we should definitely give Pigma a chance on the team. He seems like the type that needs a break from the less-than-pleasant side of the Lylat System."

"I just hope we don't look back and realize this was a bad idea," Peppy admitted out loud.

"You worry too much," James puffed out another cloud of smoke.

 _No,_ thought Peppy Hare to himself, years later at the empty-casket funeral. Fox was a grown man, a shadow of his father with the eyes of his mother. The flowers around the podium smelled lovely—lovely as Fara's humble black dress, as she rested a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. A somber Cornerian march played, but Peppy could still hear the weeping. Tears nipped at the corners of his eyes, burning like the fires that had erupted from his Arwing the moment he had landed in the Cornerian carrier after that fateful mission. As James's son sobbed onto his father's coffin, Peppy felt part of himself die away too. _I don't worry enough._


End file.
